Guardian
by Saphira112
Summary: Cassian's P.O.V. Your wings have been covered in a thick paint that can't ever be washed away. Until that time comes, I will always be your guardian and I am not going to lose you. I refuse to. Hints of Cassian/Jezebel


**Title:** Guardian

**Author:** Saphira112

**Section:** Godchild/Count Cain

**Word Count:** 1,132

**Pairing:** Cassian/Jezebel

**Rating:** PG/PG-13

**Warnings:** Shounen-ai, references to homicides, sappiness and bit of fluff

**Summary:** Cassian's P.O.V. and how he notices the changes in Jezebel, how his wings once so vibrant and stretched out to the wind are now stuck together with insanity that can probably never be washed away

**Note:** I was just listening to the recommended listening and this came out of nowhere. Pardon if the details are wrong or if it's OOC anywhere. I didn't check up in my Godchild books to see if it was right. I just write to write

**Recommended listening:** Guardian Suite by Trevor Rabin (The Guardian Soundtrack)

Guardian

One-Shot

I am the one who watches over you. I am the one who puts his life on the line to ensure your safety, no matter the situation. Even if it's an easy job, I still find everything to be dangerous; you're always in danger in my eyes. I'm not saying you're a weakling, but there are some things I've known about you or have noticed for such and such a time now, things you wouldn't ever admit to anyone, things you would deny just to escape from conviction.

For one thing...

You've given up on saving human lives. You kill them. Break them. Destroy them. Dissect them. Burn them. You do so many negative things to human lives that sometimes I can't even tell who the victims actually _were_. You're precise; deadly. Sometimes you look thrilled as you choose another victim for any random reason. But I see the method to your madness. Your feelings are driving you into lunacy, forcing your envy and anger to surface, controlling your body to go about the streets doing unmistakable things to anyone who _dare_ refuse you.

No... Perhaps that's a little _callous_, isn't it, doctor? But understand... that's how I see it. It's what I've seen you become.

You've given up on humanity. You may deny it, but I know it's true. I've seen you with those animals, caring for them as if they were more precious than any carat diamond or beautiful woman. No, even more. I'm willing to bet that you'd risk your life to save an animal if the time called for it. That's how pure you can be. But there's still that insanity hanging on your shoulders, weighing you down like how broken wings keep a bird from flying into that clear, blue sky.

_Your_ wings are covered in a thick, heavy paint, sticking the two large ligaments together and refusing to give them the will to spread out beautifully as they had once done. Once chaste white wings now soiled in a shoddy soot-black; once calm and innocent moonstone eyes now narrowed and piercing like cut diamonds. Once a peaceful mind filled with virgin thoughts now broken down into a hard vast plain of darkness filled with contaminated wastes of power; once a heart open to compassion and civilization now shut off from reality, doors bolted with locks that had no keys fixed with chains that were unbreakable, leaving room only for one.

I'm not that _one_, am I, doctor?

No. I didn't think so.

But I believe that I am the one who truly cares for you. You may never see me admit it, but you've probably already noticed it, haven't you? The way I speak to you, the ways I falter around your presence. Have you not noticed? I'm the one who has seen your changes and cares about it. I'm the one who would take his life before hurting any part of you. I am not like the countless others whom you've closed yourself off from. I am not going to hold your glass heart in cruel hands that would turn around and throw it to the floor, smashing it into the millions of shards it could become at any time.

I won't.

You've been through enough of that, haven't you? Each day, it gets harder for you to carry on as you are. I can see it. The burden on your shoulders is weighing even more every day.

Do you find life hard to live, doctor? You probably do. Sometimes I wonder what it is that keeps you going. But I already know. The Cardmaster. You stand by him so much that even _I_, merely a _trump card_, can see you falling into the darkness, your wings becoming blacker and blacker, your eyes becoming fader and fader and each day it's so hard to bear with. I can't stand by and watch you do this to yourself.

You once tried suicide. You think no one knows. But I do. After all, am I not the one who cleaned your cuts and bandaged them? I remember having questioned you when your wrist was taken care of, but you never gave me an answer. I didn't push it, despite the other half of me wanting to scream at you, begging to know. I know you wouldn't tell me even if I broke down at your feet in tears, shouting curses at you. As soon as I realized this, you had turned off the light and fallen asleep in your bed without a word, your back to me.

And I watched over you. All night. It wasn't so much that I was pissed at you and wanted to hit you in the morning so much as I was worried for you. I sat on that windowsill, twirling one of my knives between my fingers, occasionally glancing at you. I remember the moon being full that night. It shone through your window onto the both of us. The way it illuminated your hair, I was so sure that your beautiful silver hair had been kissed that night with moon dust. The way the moon shone across your face, I remember my breath hitching, something that hadn't happened before. And when morning came, just about as you were about to stir, I left your room, knowing you wouldn't pull another suicidal stunt in the morning when the maids and other cards were floating about. It would've made your 'father" look bad, right?

Still... I know you may find it hard to believe. I have questioned myself about my feelings over and over again and I know for a fact that it isn't my body's fault I feel this way. It's my mind that remembers my own past, a past filled with the sounds of a whip and high, cold laughter echoing in the air and it feels an attachment to what you've become.

Perhaps what you've become is the person I've come to care about the most, the person I don't want to see fall anymore in the darkness that has already misled many souls to their own damnation, including my own. I don't want to see you weighted down any more than you already have been. I want your wings to be washed clean, to lift you away from this place, shrug off the burden that has always been with you and let the wind catch you in its arms. That's what_ I_ want.

But it's not what you want.

Until the day comes when you fly away, whether by your power or borrowing mine – that which I will gladly give you – I will always stand by your side, even at your weakest times.

I am your guardian.

I'm _not_ going to lose you.

I refuse to.


End file.
